Down From the Sky
by Snapdragonroar
Summary: Sif is famous as the woman warrior. But someone remembers those who came before. Even when she doesn't want to.


There was the king, Allfather, who rode in gold and glory. And there was his gatekeeper, who opened doors and knew how to look. But when the people of Yggdrasil thought of Asgard and her armies, they thought of her women. The queen spun spells and charms and song as well as sword, when she wished. The heir was death itself. And the vanguard, the elites-

"The ones who do all the work!" Her captain used to say that, and they would cheer and toast (drink had always been a comfort, even when she did not know she needed comforting). Sometimes they were still on the field when it happened, still covered in red or black or blue... There were many colors of blood, and she had spilled them all.

When the Valkyries came, they flew on winged steeds, and when they attacked, they sounded like feathers and steel. They sounded like laughter, too, and screaming. It had all sounded like music.

The Valkyries had been certainty itself, and she had been (was still?) one of them. Sometimes she could almost taste that certainty in the right bottle. It tasted like purpose, and home. There were shield-sisters at her side, and one who was even dearer. She had hair more beautiful than any of the Allfather's gold, and she was strong, and... but the words had always tangled and tumbled, even then. Her love was a poem, but she was no skald. It hadn't mattered. They were Valkyries, and they loved each other, and it had been everything she ever wanted. Asgard loved her. The other Realms feared her, or hated her, it didn't matter.

She went where she was sent, and she killed all who stood before her. If she ever kept count, she had forgotten (sometimes she thought if she stopped, if she paused, the number might swim out of the fog of time and she would always have known... there was drink, always, until the feeling passed).

They fought in worlds entirely of ice, and in worlds entirely of fire, and in worlds stranger still. And when they left, there was one more world under Asgard's rule. The Realms were theirs.

The Allfather began to give more speeches than threats (the speeches were threats, too, but they were hidden now, and he did not always need to act on them). She rode in processions of triumph where she had once fought. They trained their steeds to fly in formation- not for battle, but for parades.

The first time they called her to be an honor guard her sword never left its sheath. Her armor was the same color at the end of the day. They told her to smile. It felt like a grimace, and her face hurt. It was the only thing that hurt. She complained to her love, because there is no adventure without a wound to boast of after, and her love complained with her. It helped, for a time. But she didn't know how to complain about the feeling in her heart or her head, because it wasn't pain. It felt worse, but she didn't know what it was, so she only thought about her face. She didn't think about her love's face. Not anymore. Maybe she couldn't remember it (did she want to?).

So when the Allfather called on them for a battle- a true battle- she didn't even care that it was against the Odinsdottir. The heir had been the key to the conquest, and she outshone the Valkyries just as they outshone the common soldiers. But there hadn't been a battle in so long.

They said that she wanted to continue fighting. That she would not rest at nine Realms, like her father. Perhaps they could have followed her, in another story. But in this tale, the Valkyries were the king's. They were a sword, a shield (a tool), and weapons go where the hand points them. And the Allfather had always been that hand, even if their enemies trembled because of the women around him.

Maybe she knew that there would be no other great battles after this. That with the heir gone, there would be nothing but the honor guard, and peace services, and defense. But maybe she did not expect to live through the battle. Maybe she didn't want to (standing and guarding and parading meant time to think, and she did not like many of her thoughts).

But she did live. Barely. The only one to do so. Not her captain, not her shield-sisters, not...

She was alone, and she had failed.

Because everyone knew that the Valkyries had failed. The best of the armies, and they could not stand against one. They had fought (desperately, hopelessly), but all their lives did was, maybe, create the slightest weakness in the heir's defense.

He defeated her, though. The Allfather arrived at the end, when the Valkyries were dead (she was alive, but that was wrong), and his daughter was weak, and he defeated her. Never mind that he was the one to create her.

Asgard and the Realms saw that their greatest enemy had been a woman, and women had failed her... but Odin was the savior.

(Frigga had not aided in her daughter's capture at all- at least that she knew. Perhaps there were charms and spells, but perhaps she could not fight her own child- but Odin could, and was that a good thing or bad? She did not know. But it was true that the people saw that here was another woman who did nothing.)

She was the last Valkyrie, and she saw it all sliding away. She didn't stay to see the end.

She went to a planet as far from Asgard as possible without going through one of the doors to other dimensions. She was no magician. Physical distance would have to be enough. Drink would do the rest.

She still heard some things, because the empire she had made was large, and it had reach. The queen was powerful, they said, but they only spoke of the king's helpmeet. The Valkyries turned into legend, something from another time, and so distorted by stories they seemed unreal. They did not speak of Hela at all. There were new royal heirs- boys, all.

Sometimes, when she hadn't drunk enough, or had drunk too much (there was a space in the middle for forgetting, but it was hard to find), she remembered when people thought of Asgard's warriors, and they thought of women.

None of it had anything to do with her. Not anymore.

* * *

 **Thank you, as always, to Ranubis, who came up with the summary! Best beta and better brother.**

 **The title comes from an English translation (by Carolyne Larrington) of the Poetic Edda. Specifically, a verse near the end of the Helgakviða Hundingsbana I:**

 **"Helmeted valkyries came down from the sky**  
 **—the noise of spears grew loud—they protected the prince;**  
 **then said Sigrun—the wound-giving valkyries flew,**  
 **the troll-woman's mount was feasting on the fodder of ravens..."**


End file.
